Monogatari: The Sexuality is the Narrative

X-Monogatari. Many people hate it, just as many love it, but when it comes to the finer details of the series, few understand it. And that’s a damn shame. Indeed, I am referring to the scenes of sexuality often described as “lewd” found throughout the series. It’s a heated discussion that’s been going strong for seven years, and it shows no signs of coming to an end. Some claim that the sexuality is more of a deconstruction, or that it’s all parody. Others claim it’s simply not sexual at all. But there’s a problem with each of those view points: They’re all wrong.

I’m going to tell you the secret of Monogatari.

It’s all sexual.

Despite claims to the contrary, Bakemonogatari, Nisemonogatari, Hanamonogatari, Second Seasonmonogatari, This-article-monogatri – all of it is explicitly sexual. I do not mean to say that past articles and think-pieces exploring the Monogatari topic are completely and utterly incorrect. After all, a great influence on my own thoughts was Nick Creamer’s 2013 article ‘Nisemonogatari and the Nature of Fanservice‘. But as much as I envy Creamer professionally, I do find his piece to be incomplete, and others’ attempts at putting the argument to bed to be misguided. Monogatari is a sexual series. And it’s time we come to terms with that.

But the question is: do these racy scenes mean something more? I say that they do.

‘It’s all a joke’ seems to be the de facto stance taken by so many. But there’s a huge problem with this. If the characters are trivialized into being no more than tools in one off jokes, why take them seriously? You don’t, you wouldn’t, there’s no reason to. It being purely a joke undermines all the personal growth and emotional maturity gained at the end of each character arc, throwing it away for a handful of cheap laughs. It’s not a joke. That doesn’t mean it isn’t funny, but what makes it humorous is the comedic relevance, that it’s on topic. The biggest problem with the ‘it’s all a big joke’ line of thought is it completely ignores how the show fist started – Senjougahara overcoming the trauma of sexual assault. Everyone remembers the toothbrush scene, a nude Kanbaru, and just how young Hachikuji is; however, they completely overlook how the tone for the show was set in the first place. Sexy shower scenes and the revelation of an attempted rape shared space in episode two, but no one thought to connect the dots and see how the two were related.

Go back to Bakemonogatari, episode two. Senjougahara is weightless. It’s made very clear that the weight she lacks is more than just physical mass; it doubles as a metaphor for the mental burden of trauma. The scene in Hitagi’s apartment, taken in that light, is very telling. She wanders around naked in plain sight of Araragi. She complains about how due to her weightlessness, clothes have become heavy to her. She tries on several different outfits, following Oshino’s instructions to return in her most pure attire. Something is being said here. The phrase ‘clothes make the man’ comes to mind. It has been proven that the way we dress directly impacts how we are perceived by others. Dress more conservatively, and people perceive you as poised and reliable, while a more distinctive wardrobe attributes the wearer as being more attractive or individualistic. The right clothes for every occasion. Senjougahara struggles with this concept. She struggles with the burden of her self worth; struggles with the concept of purity. The clothes were just a vehicle for maintaining the thematic element. Two parts of the same narrative.

If not a joke, the next argument usually follows: ‘Monogatari is a deconstruction of fanservice in anime.’

Answer: No, even less so.

Shifting all weight to a parody and deconstruction footing results in an equally lopsided stance and faulty viewpoint. Monogatari is not character narrative with unrelated islands of sexual dissection. Such a structure would result in a lack of story cohesion, a particular strength of the series. Quite simply, claims of deconstruction are absurd. Nothing in the series stands as a satire when it comes to sexuality. Satire is the most subtle child wrought from deconstruction, and its absence points to the absence of its parent. At the heart of this lazy argument is the confusion of parody versus satire. Put simplistically, the confusion of mimicry and mockery. A few overt spoofs of JoJo’s Bizare Adventure and Doraemon do not a deconstruction of fanservice make. Lascivious scenes are placed in very key moments throughout the show: strategically so. What good does a random, unattached dissection do us? Ultimately it’s just another joke, and misses the point.

So what is the point?

Each scene of sexually directly personifies the relationship of the involved characters.

The greatest strength of Monogatari is its dual narrative. The basic formula often plays out: dialogue riddled with types and symbolism explaining the conflict, conclusion, resolution, followed by a visual representation of that resolution. Telling the same story using two different perspectives is a common cinematic technique, and part of the reason the characters in Monogatari are so strong. We’re being told this dual narrative, first in a more traditional format of dialog, while the second engages us in depictions of hyper sensual taboos; reaffirming the main narrative. The fact that these scenes are memorable, means that they did their job. The image of that relationship, the impression of those characters, has been etched (then re-etched) into the viewer’s mind.

But discourse without application is conjecture. Let’s talk dental hygiene.

When modern civilization finally crumbles, our successors will one day stumble upon Nisemonogatari, episode eight and will never look at toothbrushes the same again. The entire episode is is an euphemism for sex. But that is the goal. Come the end of the Karen Bee arc, the two Araragi siblings do not see eye to eye. They fight, nearly to the death, and then the arc is over. The issue with Kaiki and Karen is left unresolved and is never brought up again. Or is it? The funny thing is, Araragi was not the villain of the Karen Bee arc, Kaiki was. But to bring closure to Karen’s arc she fights Araragi, why is that?

In animation, a character is not the same as an actor. An actor lives and breathes, while a drawn personage does not. Art by its very nature is not what it resembles, but does just that, resembles the subject. Thus animation has the advantage in that a character can maintain an aura of symbolism, of representation. This allows Araragi to be the villain in Kaiki’s stead. These characters, while different and distinct in all sense of aesthetic, sound, and even role, can occupy the same symbolic space. That is, two characters can share enough in common that what they represent can merge into one cohesive idea. This concept is true on all levels. Even for opposing characters exhibiting perpendicular motifs, contrary motivations. Such is the case with Koyomi Araragi and Kaiki Deishu. Kaiki is exclusively propelled by money, Araragi, by sex, in a narrative where sex equals stronger bonds and relationships. However, both discourage Karen from being a hero, and thus occupy the same symbol space. It’s the symbol of ‘hero discouragement’ that allows Arargi to stand in the stead of Kaiki. In this context, the visual resolution of toothbrushing makes sense. It resolves the sibling fallout and resentment towards Kaiki at the same time. The whole relationship shifts in one episode from being ‘I’m willing to kill you to prove I’m right’ to ‘oh, let’s be friends again’, and no one questions its sincerity. The depiction of sexually directly personifies the resolution between the two characters.

In the novel Kizumonogatari, Araragi bears witness to the wind impossibly flipping Hanekawa’s skirt. The novel taking two pages to point out how impossible this is, and yet it happens. The very next paragraph to follow, Hanekawa approaches Koyomi, forcing her friendship on him. It’s truly quite clever. Nisioisin is a master at manipulating our emotions, using a splash of sensuality to charge us with energy right before plot progression takes place. It’s sexual energy, and we carry that with us as we move through the story, imbuing the characters with that energy so that sudden friendships or the healing of a vicious sibling rivalry don’t become shortcomings in the story. The toothbrushing was 100% necessary, carrying that built up energy into character progression, and wrapping it up quickly and cleanly.

While we’re looking at Nise, why don’t we take a look at episode 4, the entire episode being a bath scene between Araragi and Shinobu. What is really going on here is actually much more complicated, as we are missing a piece of the story, namely Kizumonogatari. In the original order of the novels, Bakemonogatari is followed by Kizu before moving on to Nise, and is it Kizu that provides all the background information between Shinobu and Araragi, setting the foundation for their relationship. However, since the anime opted to delay its depiction of Kizu by six years, viewers who hadn’t read the novel were greeted by this episode only to walk away confused. To answer said confusion with ‘read Kizu‘ is simply bullshit. It’s lazy.

So scrap prior set up – what does this scene offer?

Shinobu’s entrance into the scene is where we should start. That shot alone is the key to explaining it all. She enters, erupting from the shadows on the floor in a burst of red petals, and in the background, the image of a lotus adorns the wall. The lotus, a symbol of physical, mental, and spoken purity, is the perfect overseer because what’s really going on isn’t a bath, but a purification ritual. The set itself is not a bathroom at all, nor is it limited by four walls. The space in which this all takes place is impossibly huge, unable to contain the size of the scene; it resembles more of an onsen. Before entering an onsen, it is customary to clean, to purify, before soaking in the hot water. This is exactly what Shinobu does, and Araragi assists by washing her hair.

This scene is all about the merging of opposites. Shinobu refers to Araragi as ‘master’ yet he offers the service. As he lathers her golden locks, the white of the shampoo falls down her body. It’s undeniably erotic; it’s intimate- and purification is too. White bubbles hit the floor and mix with the red petals Shinobu introduced; red and white being opposites in the Japanese mind, this mixture reinforces the theme of opposites coming together. The conversation follows the visuals as Shinbou states”You won’t forgive me, and I’ll never forgive you… Even so, there’s no reason we can’t come together.” The phrasing hints to something sensual: and also a compromise. The whole scene remains erotically charged. As they share the tub, both now purified, Shinobu even brings this topic to the forefront of the conversation, boldly threatening Araragi with it. And what you see are two characters, growing comfortable in their most intimate forms, like buddies at an onsen, splashing around playfully. All disgust that is felt from this scene does not correlate with what actually happens, but more what could happen. The two come clean with their feeling towards one another, but never take advantage of one another. Like a diamond against black velvet, the purification of their relationship is contrasted by its utter opposite, Shinobu’s explotation.

Finally, Araragi is seduced.

All Araragi could ever want is to be human again, not half-human, not half-vampire, but completely human. He realizes that in his current, in-between state that is is most likely he will outlive his loved ones and ultimately be separated from them. With her pride, Shinobu cannot allow herself to be subservient to any lesser being, and so offers an ultimatum: “Why don’t you kill me, and go back to being a human for real?” An alluring offer, and the visuals keep pace with that allure as she places her hands on his face. Most telling of it all is the background music, titled ‘Bonds’.

I have written about Nadeko at length before; I feel no need to restate her details here. What I didn’t mention, however, is how Second Season the relationship of Nadeko and Araragi is mirrored by that of Hitagi and Kaiki. We spoke about characters sharing the same symbolic space; here Kaiki assumes the role of Araragi, while Hitagi shares with Nadeko. Take for example the coffee scene in the diner. As Hitagi offers herself in terms of payment, Kaiki will have none of it, throwing his drink in her face, even after calling her a child for the very same action. Araragi refuses to see Nadeko’s complete infatuation with him, ignoring her, throwing the proverbial juice in Nadeko’s face. It’s the love of a child, it’s superficial, like juice, 100% concentrate. And like Nadeko with Araragi, Hitagi wanted Kaiki dead. Neither of the young women were truly in love, only infatuated with their white knight who swooped in to save them in their time of need. It’s by design that only after the relationship between Hitagi and Kaiki is healed do Nadeko and Araragi find closure.

This exercise can be applied to any scene if simply the question, ‘why?’ is asked and an honest answer sought, but I want to end by applying it to one last character.

Hachikuji Mayoi.

Ambush groping. Skirt flipping. Physical battery. The entire relationship Hachikuji shares with Araragi is mostly entirely inappropriate. You’d be hard pressed to find a scene with Mayoi conscious that doesn’t feature Araragi’s hands all over her. He only brings problems to the relationship – mainly his own personal problems. This was first established in Bakemonogaatri, episode three, the premier episode of the Mayoi Snail arc. Hachikuji appears every time he has no one to turn to, and needs a friend to listen. The problem is always Araragi’s, not Hachikuji’s. The end of Mayoi Snail made this abundantly clear.

Every time Hachikuji appears thereafter, two things happen: Araragi’s perverted antics, and his verbal catharsis. The relationship is inappropriate, same as any adult confiding in a child about adult issues is inappropriate. But in many ways, Mayoi is an adult, and that idea is expanded upon in Kabukimonogatari. If Araragi is unable to confide in her then the whole world is destroyed. She bares his mental burdens as a true friend would, and to be honest, that is quite beautiful. But it’s inappropriate, and represented as such.

Monogatari is not a deconstruction or parody. It’s irrevocably sexual. And that’s ok, because that sexuality means something. But looking at these scenes as something antithetical and divorcing them from their context is not what was ever intended. It’s a dual narrative. Each scene of sexually directly personifies the relationship of the involved characters, conveying the same thing twice – it just so happens that one is a tad more racy than the other. The sexuality is the narrative.

That’s really the secret behind Monogatari.

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The creator of Wave Motion Cannon - but you already knew that. When not watching a film or podcasting he plays guitar pretending he's Jimmy Page. He grew up on comic books, likes board games, and long walks on the beach. Fluent in Spanish, but misspells English. A perfect balance of Scorpio and Libra, his favorite flavor of ice cream is cookies and cream.

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18 Comments

The sexuality and fanservice in Monogatari is one of the things I’m most struggling with pinning down, and I think this article provides the answer why: because it doesn’t mean one thing. It’s easy to look at other fanservice shows and say “oh, this is here to titillate,” but it often seems like that’s not Monogatari’s purpose. So instead people think it’s a symbol…which it often is, but it doesn’t all stand for one specific idea or theme. It’s not the shorthand people want it to be. Every time there’s fanservice or sexuality, you have to ask yourself “okay, what is it trying to accomplish in this specific instance.” I’ve heard several different theories on why fanservice is used, but there always seem to be exceptions to those theories.

So I guess the question I’m hung up on now isn’t so much “what does the sexuality mean?” (because the answer is “it means different things at different times”), but “why is sexuality, rather than something else, necessary as the vehicle for the metaphor?”

To your question I’d say first that it isn’t “necessary” per se. It’s an artistic choice, like all visual metaphor. Having said that, can you think of something as universally applicable, easily communicated and something that serves as a similar kind of energy conductor? I’m struggling myself.

Violence doesn’t quite have the same communicative power. For one, violence can’t really be warm. A violent reconciliation kinda has to end with death, otherwise, it’s not resolved.
Plus it’s overwhelmingly physical, where as sex is a more balanced vehicle.

I guess my question is actually more why there’s such a strong emphasis on sexuality when it doesn’t seem to me like that’s specifically what the show is about. It’s a recurring theme and motif, but since it stands for so many different things, I’d expect it to be the focus of the show. Yes, the show is all sexual, but (and I could be way off here since I haven’t seen everything and I feel like I didn’t watch most of it properly) the show as a whole doesn’t strike me as being about sex. I could understand if it were just Senjougahara, Kanbaru, Nadeko, Hanekawa, and even Shinobu to an extent, since their problems deal directly with sexuality, but with Hachikuji and the Fire Sisters, I don’t understand how it ties into the conflict in their arcs and development beyond how it can be used metaphorically.

Like they said, it is an artistic choice. Sexuality is a good conductor and the autor is very good at using it as such.
Also I guess that if some arcs were filled with sexuality while others weren’t, it would have been even harder to understand sexuality as a metaphor. By using the same conductor in all arcs, the autor makes sure to send the message: this show not only eventually has sexuality; sexuality here is important and part of the whole. If sexuality only appeared as a conductor every now and then, it would be even harder to notice it as such.

Interesting piece. It’s definitely good to provide a counter-interpretation of all the “it’s ironic!” out there. It feels like people can’t come to terms with liking certain things (especially sexual ones but not only) without ascribing them to irony, satire, etc.

I feel compelled to ask what I always ask when I see that word though: what do you mean by “deconstruction”?

A deconstruction is really the question ‘why?’ asked over and over and over until it cascades into a a basic, elemental answer. If Monogatari were a breakdown of fanservice in anime, they’d spend more time talking about it in a serious and orderly manner. Monogatari is called ‘monologue the anime’ for a reason, but yet, very little of that ‘monologue’ is actually spent exploring that side of things. Does Araragi ever state why he assaults Mayoi? Does he ever explain the cause of Kanbaru’s exposure? We can ask questions like that, we can deconstruct these elements, but the show does not.

I ask mainly because although I have a vague idea of what deconstruction is in literary theory/criticism, it’s often used in anime communities (and maybe others, I don’t know) in ways that vary from people to people and that all have not much to do with lit crit’s deconstruction (since lit crit deconstruction is something the reader-analyst does, not the fiction/the author). It’s always interesting to see how different people appropriate the word for themselves, and often substitute it for things like irony or trope subversion, for example.

Which is not exactly your posture either, since if I understand correctly, deconstruction for you would be a fiction that actively and seriously engages in a critical discussion of an usual element (e.g. fanservice) of the genre/medium/etc it belongs to? Sort of like a meta-commentary by the author of the culture he belongs to.

Firstly its a staple of the subculture, so for a work that aims to commentate and twist that subculture, it seems fitting. This is the irony point, but its deeper than that.

Secondly its a style. Questioning the sexuality in Bakemonogatari is just about the same as questioning the sexuality in James Franco films, or Jean Rollin films, or Harmony Korine films, or Horror, French Extremity, Sexsploitation, Giallo etc… linking up these movements to the above points, they used the trash-aesthetic to cut a niche area for themselves within a society that couldn’t bear to accept them. It’s a bit weirder in Shaft’s case because they’re not as sidelined as these trash-art types, which leads to the next factor.

Thirdly, economic considerations definitely come into play. Shaft is a huge company that has to make money.

Fourthly, symbolic meanings definitely come into play, sometimes.

So the end result is the shifting mass of intentions you see on screen. A work firmly rooted in a subculture that uses the niche elements, but went even further by trying to cut a niche in a niche, which, paradoxically, somehow worked to become a big hit, and now they’ve got that + economic considerations + the weight and thematic density and theatricality of Nisio Isin’s text allowing them to do whatever the heck they want. The Monogatari series is a case of a complete Auteur victory.

Actually an apt comparison is David Lynch’s Blue Velvet or Mulholland Drive. Sexuality in there is expressionistic style rather than overt thematic, ironic or symbolic meaning, intermixed with mystery elements that keep the viewer guessing and hooked, causing this mix where the experimental form was perfectly married to content and synced with the mainstream to create a cultural phenomenon. If you had been there and wondered how this Lesbo-Dreamlike-Noir-Horror movie managed to make 20 million at the box office, you can see the similarities.

I can see your comparison with Lynch as a completely valid one, (even though I have a distaste for his work) but one thing I’d like to call back to is the fact that the series is adapted from a novel. A series of bestselling novels. All the scenes of pseudo-erotica are present in the novels, which do not suffer from any of the drawbacks the anime does. But yet Nisioisin still puts them in there. The anime embellishes this to the point where it’s impossible to misinterpret, adding details and symbols that have no mention in the novel. we need to think of the show on that basis: as a novel in visual form. The novel is much more subtle versus all the visual ques we are given in the anime. As such, I feel we were absolutely meant to read the sexualaity as a second, parallel narrative.

‘I more or less agree with what you’re saying’ -I guess is what I’m trying to say!

“Questioning the use of sexuality in the Monogatari series is like questioning the use of sexuality in Edogawa Rampo, Marquis de Sade, the Beat Generation writings, Surrealist Fiction, etc…”

Nisio Isin, in particular, comes from the Japanese mystery writer’s tradition that is well known for being infatuated with Gothic and Perverse Bizzare-ity. Senjougahara even says that her favorite writer is Yumeno Kyusaku, who is considered the master writer of Bizzare Surreal Gothic Sexual stuff in Japan.

An excellent article on Monogatari I found myself agreeing with 100 percent. I had always considered Monogatari to be a story driven by the characters hormones and trauma (of both literal and allegorical persuasion), yet I find that most fans cannot really put that into words. You’ve also pointed out why Nise is not just ‘the fanservice season’ that everyone says it is, and solidified why even if it falls short of Bake in narrative structure, in overall enjoyment and thematics it is almost as strong as most of Second Season.

While reading your article, I had wondered if you were going to bring up the true nature behind Kanbaru and Koyomi’s relationship. The real reason why she teases him or ‘hates’ him or, as Shinobu Mail and the ending of Hana have revealed to us, maybe even be slowly falling for him instead of Hitagi. And that brought to mind what happened in the end of Nisemonogatari episode 2, when to prove that she is the most perverted out of the two of them…she molests Araragi in a scenario that leads the viewers to think about the contents of her beloved BL books.

To me, I have always felt that she considered herself to be the ‘other man’ in Hitagi’s life, and wants to dominate Araragi in every way possible to prove to her beloved sempai that she is the best one for her…but what’s particularly interesting about that is that since we are mostly seeing the story in Koyomi’s eyes (and he’s not a very reliable narrator either) we can’t completely tell if she genuinely likes his company the more time they spend together or if she is trying to steal away his ‘dominance/masculinity’ by either making him fall in love with her or perhaps (in his eyes) seducing Karen (we never do find out what happened when they met up since Araragi wasn’t there). And I can’t help but think that he has the fear of losing his proper status as a big brother/constant male in his sisters’ lives whenever they spend time around Hanekawa or Kanbaru without him.

And to touch upon what happens when Koyomi is molested by Suruga, he mentions during the experience that he now understands how Mayoi feels when he assaults her and you can even see his face in the visual narrative drawn in a caricature that makes him look like Hachikuji. This has always been particularly interesting to me for two reasons. The first one being is that the next time he meets up with Mayoi he does not continue the tradition of sexually assaulting and molesting her because he believes having been through what she endures whenever they are together (or perhaps what he thinks to be the actual equivalent of this), he genuinely believes that she doesn’t like it. But given her reactions and disappointment to him not doing what he normally does, we see that as the one adult who has been the most present in his life since the end of spring break, this is not actually the case at all.

The second reason is that Koyomi himself is, like Senjougahara, a victim of sexual assault. I remember that in Kizu it was deliberately said toward the end that having been bitten by a vampire and being turned into a thrall was the equivalent of sexual intercourse in their echelon of existence, meaning that Kiss Shot basically deflowered him. And given that vampires are particularly known to be rather sexual beings and he was already plenty of a lecher before losing his humanity, it further serves the reason why sexuality seems to be the only constant in his life throughout the story. Trauma victims are at high risk of repeating what happened to them to others, especially those he cares about.

Also important to note is that when Hitagi calls him a virgin in episode 3 of Bakemonogatari, she doesn’t know that this is technically not the case anymore. Perhaps the only people in the entire world at that point in the series who do are Meme, Hanekawa, possibly Episode and lastly but most importantly, Kiss Shot/Shinobu. In fact, looking from your perspective, I’ve ultimately thought that she might actually be feeling fully responsible for everything that happened to him. It would make sense, given that she knew full well when she turned him into her thrall that she basically deflowered him. But perhaps she expected him to hate her (“You won’t forgive me”) for doing so, hence keeping her alive against her will is her ‘punishment’. It doesn’t justify him neglecting her throughout most of Bake, but it certainly does make his attitude toward her a lot more poignant and understandable. But what better way for them to rekindle their eternal relationship than to have them in a purification scenario, now that they are both devirginalized lovers sharing and trying to heal each other’s wounds for the rest of their days albeit having no clue how to have a relationship?

Also, I was hoping to hear your thoughts on Hitagi and Tsubasa’s relationship throughout all of Nise and Second Season/Owari.

Anyway, that was probably a lot to read for you, but those were just my two cents. I’m incredibly engrossed in this subject, and I’m very glad I stumbled upon this article. Look forward to reading more from you. 🙂

Undermining your analysis: Shaft’s uncomfortableness with actual nudity. They frequently have full frontal, but we’re looking at Barbie dolls: no nipples, no vulva. At times (mostly with other shows) it’s embarrassing to see “naked” bodies stripped of their physicality. Either the folks at Shaft have some personal issues to deal with, or they want an audience that doesn’t want nipples.

Not sure I agree with you. I think the concept of identity is key, and that transcends sexuality. But I need to think about that before I declaim thereupon. (Yes, I know. Thinking before declaring my opinion on the internet. I have no business being here.)

Actually, that’s not entirely correct. Shinobu was completely naked for most of an entire episode of Nisemonogatari, and we even seen up her skirt in Bakemonogatari. I respect your point, but I also want to point out that Japanese television is an odd creature, and I think that is more of the case. But even going to the Blurays, there are no explicit scenes of nudity. We don’t need to go that far. I don’t need to see Nadeko or Kanbaru completely naked to understand that they are naked. And reanimating or editing is simply not in SHAFT’s time budget, they barely finish (or don’t as with episode 8, and 10-13 of Bakemono) to put the episode out on time.

Under other circumstances, I think you’d be correct, however there’s more at play than a possible discomfort with nudity, after all, this is the studio responsible for Dance in the Vampire Bund. Plus, as far as I can tell with no official release, the nudity is not spelled out in the novels, and the anime if a fair adaptation of that.
Hopefully this doesn’t come off as just ‘no you’re wrong’ even though that’s sorta my tone. I do look forward to seeing your retort – after all, this article was a retort of sorts.

I commend and agree on this perspective. Also of note is the strong tying of sexuality, identity, trauma and “aberration” as over-the-top supernatural manifestation of hysteria. What else do troubled young folks have to make them notable enough for a story? Of course this is still “idealised” within the tale; the real world lacks enchantment and instead offers uncaring, brutal, vicious indifference. Note the reaction of our hero after he slips into Hanekawa’s house and discovers her living situation. On a similar note, I love the oil refinery backgrounds in the main series; their use in Kizu is brilliant.

We will eventually get all of Kizu and will not have to rely on fan-translations of the light novels that hide in odd corners of the web. In the meantime, Hana-monogatari is not to be dismissed lightly, as it provides the last view of Araragi.